


there ain't language for the things i feel

by viviolet



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Idiots in Love, It's coming I promise, Kidnapping, M/M, Unrealized pining, fjord's low wisdom has robbed him of the ability to realize when he's in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:00:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26005339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viviolet/pseuds/viviolet
Summary: there’s a presence always at his shoulder that he never noticed, and now it’s gone and he feels like he’s blind on one side. every time fjord goes to look for caduceus, to laugh at something jester’s done, for an explanation on why that plant looks the way it does, for guidance, to soothe that buzzing feeling in his chest, to steal that last cup of tea he always needs to fall asleep, he’s not there.or: post-travelercon, caduceus is mistaken for kotho. the mighty nein, their half-orc especially, are not happy about this.
Relationships: Caduceus Clay/Fjord
Comments: 36
Kudos: 174





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> you know the trope where one half of the ship gets injured or kidnapped and the other goes ballistic? yeah, i’ve been thinking about it for four days straight.  
> this’ll all be jossed by the time episode 107 airs, but gotta speculate while you’ve still got time, am i right folks?
> 
> title from “love like ghosts” by lord huron

There’s been a sinking feeling settling in Fjord’s gut for the last couple hours. The Mighty Nein had returned to Nicodranas after (what may one day be described as) a successful Travelercon. The wharf master had pinched the bridge of his nose and his beard went slightly greyer as he approved the third ship he’d seen them in command of in the same number of visits, but it really was good to be back.

They’d scattered at port, all with different things they needed to pick up. Caduceus went off to see his favorite shopkeeper at the Seafloor’s Bounty, Veth was on her way to her husband and son with Jester in tow within the blink of an eye, Beau and Caleb split to rustle up some paper and books for both light and serious reading, and Yasha left muttering about fish jerky.

Fjord found himself standing alone, with only the thoughts that had been running in the back of his mind for the past few weeks. When he comes to, he finds himself at the foot of the Mother’s Lighthouse staring at that thick dark wooden door. There’s no sound of Gladys nearby, so Fjord refrains from knocking. He makes his way around the side so he can catch glimpse of the righteous woman carved into the front of the lighthouse, eyes hollowed out so that her gaze may guide sailors in the night.

She’s breathtaking, all wild hair and gentle smile to go with her outstretched palm. Fjord knows, in the depth of his heart, who her visage is meant to evoke, but something about her is familiar in another way. She reminds him of Caduceus, he supposes.

At the cliffside, he sits in crossed legs and does his best to meditate on the nature of the ocean, the wilderness, and Melora. He thanks Her for coming to Caduceus when he called upon Her back in Rumblecusp, for granting the knowledge they needed and Fjord’s own magical abilities that had come into play during the fight. More quietly, he thanks Her for allowing him to return after that night on the ocean, properly thanks Her like he hadn’t had the peace of mind to do beforehand. As always, he thanks Her for Caduceus and everything he can do, and that She’s allowed him to take this journey with them.

In a moment of bravery, he asks why She had let the wilderness be so unkind to her cleric. Suddenly, the wind picks up around him and the breeze chills, and slowly begins to grow warm again.

And Fjord understands. _I only have say over what’s a natural. His influence took my control away. I am so sorry I let you two down._

It’s not what Fjord was expecting, but it fills his chest with warmth, feels as if a mother he’s never known had wrapped him in a hug after a long day full of rejection and kissed his tear-soaked cheeks dry. It’s a good sensation.

He exhales, slowly rising. And then, a rush of cold air hits him with such force his topknot nearly comes undone and it sends such a chill down his spine Fjord is inclined to believe that he hasn’t known fear until this moment.

 _He is still in danger_.

This is the root of the pit in his stomach as he makes his way back to the Lavish Chateau. Beau’s already begun to drink, tucked away on the table that the group has unofficially claimed as theirs.

“Hey, want me to grab you a round Captain?” She asks, pulling herself into a more upright position.

He shakes his head. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Uh…” Beau tilts her head to think and begins to count members off on her fingertips. “Caleb’s in his room, Jessie’s upstairs with her mom, Veth went out with her family, Yasha took her harp out to the beach, you’re in front of me.”

“Caduceus.” Fjord says, prompting.

She shrugs. “Haven’t seen him yet. Figured he would have met you, to be honest.” Beau admits, looking almost sheepish as she rubs the back of her neck.

“Find him.” Fjord orders and begins to scale the staircase.

Beau opens her mouth to protest, but the urgency in Fjord’s voice makes her stop. She abandons her tankard and pulls up her coat as she makes her way out. Tall, funny looking guy like Caduceus shouldn’t be hard to track down. It won’t take her long to locate a few gossips, press a couple Zhelezo guards for information.

By the time she’s left the Chateau, Fjord has scaled the second flight and begins to climb the third. With a nod to Bluud, he makes his way up to the Ruby of the Sea’s chambers and opens the door to a happy Jester and elegant as ever Marion Lavorre.

“Fjord, how nice to see you.” Marion rises from her seated position on her bed, Jester following in suit. “Have you been shown the chambers set aside for you yet?”

“No, Ma’am.” Fjord says, ducking his head with respect out of instinct more than thought. She’ll surely chastise him for it, and Jester will tease for at least a week. “But that’s not why I’m here. Came by looking for Caduceus, actually?”

Marion nods. “The other cleric, yes, Jester was just telling me about how instrumental he’d been in keeping the peace during Travelercon. Sweet thing, polite, a complete blushing virgin if I do say so myself.” On instinct, Fjord wants to defend Caduceus, even though nothing she’s said has been false or unkind.

“Why are you looking for him?” Jester’s watching him, purple eyes full of worry.

Fjord tries for an excuse, but they all die lamely on his tongue, so he must settle for the truth. “I was praying, to the Wildmother, and she told me something that made me worry. And Beau hasn’t seen him, I don’t think any of us have since we left the Wayfarer’s Cove.”

A look is exchanged between the two women, one faster than Fjord could ever hope to learn to read. And Jester is taking his hand, they’re leaving the third floor and are going to the second. She unlocks a door with a key that she’s somehow procured. She pointedly nudges him towards the bed, to take a seat. But his legs are locked up, Fjord fears he couldn’t take another step if he tried. She just pats his shoulder and throws herself down instead. It’s almost impressive, the way Jester nearly takes up an entire king sized mattress all by herself.

“Worried about Caduceus?” Her voice is teasing, like when she’s quoting Tusked Love at him, but without any of the usual flirtatious undertones.

Fjord gives her a puzzling look. “Wouldn’t you be?” He doesn’t mean to snap, but it comes out terse. “If The Traveler came and told you one of us was in danger, I’d sure hope you’d take some concern.”

She sits up, eyeing him carefully. “Hey.” She’s gone from spitfire to soft, genuine concern taking hold as she tries to get a read off him.

He’s trying to keep it together, but Jester’s steady gaze is too much. Tears spring to his eyes and he forcefully wipes them away, does anything and everything he can not to think about that chilled breeze and the sensation of Her worried warning. The stone in his stomach grows heavier, and it’s sinking, sinking.

She gives him a good long while to answer her, but Fjord finds himself unable to form any words. How is he to explain this feeling that’s overcome him, especially when he’s certain he’s never felt anything like it before. Not this strong, not like this. He tries, he really does, several times to provide her with a response, but no words make it farther than his throat. What Jester does get, over the course of the better part of the next twenty minutes, are several strangled noises before she takes pity on him.

“Fjord, would you like me to try to speak with him? Cast Sending, see what he’s up to?”

 _Sending._ Of course, why hadn’t he thought of that? “Yes, Jester, please.” He’s begging and can’t be bothered to feel ashamed for it.

Jester gives him a look, and belatedly he holds up his hands to count her words. She pulls out a thin copper wire from her bag, and casts the spell.

“Hey Caduceus, just wondering what’s up because we haven’t seen you since port,” Jester’s rambling as she resumes her initial horizontal position in the bed “and we’re all concerned let us know soon, ok?” She turns her head to Fjord for the first time since she started speaking.

Fjord has three fingers remaining. It doesn’t take long for Jester do decide how to close out their message.

“We love you.”

A weight flutters away from his chest, initially at least. Caduceus will have received it, is trying to come up with some clever response to earn Jester’s giggle. A moment passes. Then another. Another.

Jester’s eyes are screwed shut in concentration, and when she opens them to blink her pupils are dilated. “It didn’t work.” She mumbles.

“It what?” Fjord doesn’t mean to raise his voice, but the shock that grips him takes his control away.

Jester is unmoving, except for her eyes that rapidly dart around the floor as she tries to figure out what’s just happened. “It felt like… fuzzy? Like there was a barrier, something blocking him from me.” Her tail is thrashing on the bed in distress. “Like when I try to scry and it doesn’t work. But this is Caduceus, I should be able to cast Sending!”

She’s panicking, which only making that sinking feeling in Fjord’s gut worse. This is the moment that Beauregard returns, crashing through without a knock.

“No one will tell me if they’ve seen the big guy.” Beau’s disappointment is palpable, but she reigns herself in when she sees the distraught faces in front of her. “Shit. You guys too?”

Jester nods her head in a manner that could almost be described as violent. “Beau, my Sending won’t work, I can’t even talk to him!”

“He’s not…” Beau looks to Fjord, concern taking over her expression. It’s a funny look on her, Fjord would laugh given almost any other circumstance.

“No, no not like that.” Jester reassures her, rising so she can begin to pace the room. “It’s like it’s being blocked, I don’t understand it!”

“Caleb.” Beau ducks out of the room, returns moments later dragging the wizard by his elbow, spell book still in his hand and Frumpkin on his shoulder.

He looks frazzled, but their obvious worry means he isn’t rude. “What is it?”

Jester throws her hands up in frustration. “Why wouldn’t I be able to cast Sending on someone I know, as well as I know you guys?” She whacks her tail into the foot of the bed with such force it makes a noise, but Jester doesn’t even seem to register it.

“A ring, maybe?” Beau’s rubbing her temple. “If it’s got an enchantment to keep mind magic from affecting you…” She scowls, shakes her head. “But no, he’d be able to still let you into his mind then. It’s something else.”

While no one has bothered to fill him in, Caleb has still been able out to figure some large pieces of the puzzle. “There’s a spell.” He says softly, nerves transparent. “You’d need a powerful caster, but if someone created an antimagic field, then whoever is trapped couldn’t cast and any sort of attempts at telepathic communication would be blocked.”

Fjord finally feels himself able to speak, hadn’t realized he’d been frozen stuck until that moment. “Someone has him.”

Caleb’s mouth drops open just the slightest, comprehension finally taking him. “Not Caduceus.”

Beau abruptly leaves, slamming the door behind her. The remaining three stare at one another, afraid to breathe, afraid of where he’s gone, what that means, and what they’ll have to do.

She returns during dinner with Yasha in tow, one that Fjord, Jester and Caleb have been eating in silence. Yeza and Veth have been exchanging quiet remarks between themselves as not to disturb the others. Caduceus’s absence feels heavy.

“He was taken by bounty hunters.” Yasha announcers their presence quietly, grips the edge table in lieu of sitting. Beau slides into the booth, takes Fjord’s plate and begins to pick over his uneaten fish and chips.

They all stare at them, and Caleb is the first to find his voice. “Do you know where?”

Beau nods. “Othe. Word’s been going around, about people from Rumblecusp as the villagers who have left. Terra’s already trying to get work under her real name again, Kotho, and some _very_ important figure is eager to see her.” She’s furious, anger leeching off every word.

“She told me she was retrieving a stolen weapon, back before Rumblecusp.” Fjord would throw up, if he had anything in him to do so. “Her employer must have put out a prize for her capture. Guess they saw a firbolg come off a ship and figured they’d ask questions later.”

“That’s terrible!” Veth gawks over her dinner, interest gone as she stares at Beau in disbelief. “What, they just took the first firbolg they saw?”

Yeza nods in agreement. “The Crownsguard has been guilty of similar profiling, I’m sure they’ll defend themselves by saying all firbolgs look the same.”

“Imbeciles.” Veth mutters.

Caleb snorts into his drink. “I’m sorry Veth, whatever happened to ‘do you know Pumat Sol?’”

She gives him a stink eye. “This is our boy. He’s just gotten his family back; they’ll take him from us over my dead body.”

No one moves for a very long moment, a moment broken when Fjord goes to pick up his tankard and raise it in Veth’s direction.

“Don’t piss the team mom off, noted.”

Veth gives him a look that’s dangerously something like approval, before she turns back to Yasha. “Do we know anything about the bounty hunters, names, appearances, anything?”

“They have a cart.” Yasha says slowly. “And we know where they’re heading.”

“That’s it?” Jester does little to hide her growing dismay. “No idea of who they’re working for, who Terra owed, what they’re planning to do to him?”

The silence that follows is not one that brings comfort.

Sleep that night is fitful at best, and they all risen before dawn. It’s roughly nine day’s journey to Othe, but that’s ignoring the time it’ll take them to navigate the Othemoor and any other issues they’ll run into along the way. Marion sets them up with horses that they can sell on the north end of the Plumgroves before the hit the marshes. From there, if they haven’t caught up to the people who have taken Caduceus yet, they’ll have to slog through the marshland and hope they can find him in the city.

No one wants to think about what will happen if they can’t find him then.

Travel is miserable, despite the fair weather they’re given for the first couple days. All Fjord can think of is how Caduceus’s captors have this weather too, that they’re making just as good time and on a deadline. He’s become a terrible traveling companion. Fjord has become alert to a point of annoying, summoning Star Razor to him at the first chance of hearing a disturbance, a poor companion to his friends, and itching for a fight.

To top everything off, Fjord stays awake every night. They still sleep under Caleb’s bubble, but under the unspoken worry that they’ll miss something in the night, they’ve started taking watch again in pairs. Fjord will take one every night, wouldn’t rest if any of the others would tolerate it. On the first night, Caleb has to cast sleep to force Fjord to rest.

It’s their fifth night when Beau is woken with him by Yasha and Veth to take the final watch. In a lull, Beau convinces him to exercise with her. Nothing crazy, just some localized, smaller energy motions.

The distraction is welcome, Fjord is happy to have something to do with his body. Their workout is cut short, however, when Fjord presses the wrong amount of weight into his hands in the middle of pushups. His wrist pops out for a moment with a nasty sound, and in an effort to overcorrect for that pain, he slides his hand too quickly and lacerates the palm along a sharp edge of rock.

“Ah, fuck!” Fjord hisses.

Beau finishes her set before she allows her knees to drop for a moment’s rest to look at him, still cradling his bleeding palm. “You could fix that yourself, you know.”

“I know.” Fjord replies, but he does not stop staring at the wound on his hand.

“Or you could wake up Jester.” She points out, as she pulls her torso up and angles her head at the ground. Beau’s taken to practicing her balance after their workouts, something that Fjord tried to join her in but no longer does out of a desire to avoid constantly falling on his face. They should have been less than halfway through their series; she’s cutting him some slack by stopping early. Which means Beau can feel how miserable Fjord has been these past few days, which also means that everyone has to know.

“I know.” Fjord says again, in response, trying to ignore his racing mind. “But it would be rude to wake her.”

Beau kicks her feet off the ground, balancing just on her head and where she’s pressing her hands into the earth. “It would be pretty fucking rude of you. That hasn’t stopped you from behaving how you’ve been, these past few days.”

He sucks in a sharp breath of air, not entirely expecting the direct confrontation, although it is her style. “I know. I’m sorry, I just miss him.”

“We all miss him.” Beau gives him an upside-down unimpressed look, the only muscle in her body that moves in her headstand. “Try again.”

Fjord blinks slowly. “I… I don’t understand Beau. I miss him, just like you all do.”

Except, _no_ , it’s not like how they all do, how could it be? He feels like part of himself has been stolen from him. There’s a presence always at his shoulder that he never noticed, and now it’s gone and he feels like he’s blind on one side. Every time Fjord goes to look for Caduceus, to laugh at something Jester’s done, for an explanation on why that plant looks the way it does, for guidance, to soothe that buzzing feeling in his chest, to steal that last cup of tea he always needs to fall asleep, he’s not there and Fjord feels that same pain he did on the first day when the Wildmother warned him. It’s still just as fresh and raw and ugly as it was at first, and every time he’s reminded of Caduceus’s unwilling absence, it feels like someone twists his pain just once more, making it almost entirely unbearable.

By the time he can bring himself to look back at her, Beau has managed to push herself into a handstand. She raises her pierced eyebrow at him.

“Just like we all do?”

If Fjord admits that he doesn’t, then he’s admitting something greater that he doesn’t understand. He can’t explain the both gnawing and empty feeling in his chest, needs to push it back down and focus on finding Caduceus.

“Yes.”

She cartwheels out of the handstand, now looking at him eye to eye. Her face is slightly flushed from the amount of time she had remained inverted, but her smirk tells him that she’s got nothing on him. Fjord’s face does feel warm, now that he’s raising his good hand to check on it. 

Beau gives a very fake cough into her elbow that sounds strangely like she’s saying “Whore.”

Fjord shoots her a look of confusion, palms upturned. She rolls her eyes in return.

“Really? Can you not hear your own voice?”

He shakes his head slightly, something tickling the back of his brain, but he can’t figure out where it’s coming from. It is making him feel defensive, however. “Feel free to enlighten me, Expositor.”

Beau laughs at him for a minute straight and says nothing in response. Fjord is definitely more confused than he started out. He tries to engage her twice more before the dawn comes, but she refuses to play along. Fjord does cave eventually, heals his hand with a little bit of the magic granted to him by the Wildmother before the others rise and worry over it.

Watching it heal is too painful, too much of a reminder of who’s missing. Out of the corner of his eye, Fjord could have sworn that instead of the usual green of his magic, pink comes out his fingertips and a lichen knits the skin back together. But, by the time he can bring himself to look at his hand, any traces have long fallen away and there’s nothing in front of him except a perfectly healed palm.

Jester has been calling her mother and Essek three times each daily, begging for any sort of information they can get. A suggestion from Marion and a favor called in from Essek reveals a symbol seen on a shifty cart that had left Nicodranas the day before they had. Jester sketches it out to the best of her guess and shows them her result over breakfast.

Caduceus’s absence is felt here as well, as the Nein have to politely choke down whatever Veth and Fjord can scrounge up. No one says it, but they long for Caduceus’s traveling spice rack.

When she turns her book out to them, the page is covered with a crescent, a five sided shape nestled next to it and curved rays shooting from the shape, three small and two larger ones. Beau grabs the journal out of Jester’s hand and holds it close to her face, disgust obvious.

“What is it?” Yasha’s gaze is trained on Beau’s, she’s the only one of them unshaken by their monk’s reaction.

Beau holds the journal out to them, finger tracing the crescent. “See this? This is the shape of the islands that Othe is built upon in the Othemoor. And this,” moving outwards to the pentagon and rays shooting from it, “this is part of The Myriad’s symbol.”

A heavy weight settles on them all. Whatever business Terra’s former employer had evidently not been above level, and The Myriad has deep pockets they can sink into if the case is deemed as worthy of the coin. When they find out that Caduceus isn’t who they’re looking for, they’ll have six dozen ways to make him disappear. Entertaining any of them makes Fjord’s heart ache.

“Can you talk to your father, Jester?” Veth asks quietly as they climb aboard their horses to begin the day’s chase.

She shakes her head. “I’m out of third levels. If I don’t have to use any higher spells, I will tonight.”

When the weather turns that day, there’s a sigh of relief. If his captors are still traveling by cart, they’re going to be slowed down. If not.

Well, the alternative isn’t very fun to think about.

Since she’s the most comfortable in this weather, Yasha has taken point, with Fjord not far behind to give out directions when they’re needed.

Today’s the day they finally have the misfortune of running into aggressive wildlife, and it’s a clutch of Owlbears of all creatures. The horses all survive, by some fluke, but the party wore themselves out which means expended spell slots. Fjord thought the combat would have helped to improve his mood some, but all it really means is that they didn’t travel as far as they could have today, and that time has been wasted. And that Jester won’t be able to talk to the Gentleman.

“I assume you’re tapped for the day.” He’s doing his best not to sound hopeful, miserably fails it.

Jester toes the dirt beneath her shoe thoughtfully. “Actually, I have it in me to scry today. I want to try it, with Caduceus. Figured it couldn’t hurt.”

Beau gives her a firm nod, one matched by Caleb. “Good idea, Jess.” Yasha says in agreement and as encouragement.

“Do we have anything of his?” Jester asks as she crosses her legs into seating position. “It can make it easier for me to find him.”

“Here.” Fjord unclips his holy symbol from where it was fastened to his armor. “It’s his design, part of him is in it.”

She takes it with care, and rests it in front of the crystal ball Jester directs her focus towards. She begins to murmur and chant the incantation while the rest are helping set up camp and prepare dinner.

Fjord tries not to obsessively watch Jester for the ten minutes her scry lasts, but what else is he supposed to do? When her eyes finally shoot open, they’re joyful. If he was more aware, Fjord would have also noticed they’re tinged with sadness.

“He’s alive, guys he’s alive and we’re on the right trail!” Tears fall from her face as Jester pulls all of them in a hug.

After they pull themselves apart, all a bit of a weepy mess, Veth finds her voice first.

“How is he?”

Jester’s hesitation tells them more than her words ever could. “He’ll be fine once we make it to him. But, he knew I was scrying.” Her face picks up at this mention. “He let me in, whispered a thanks to the Traveler. It was so nice to see him.”

Fjord lets that last bit sustain him. Caduceus is well enough to be conscious and let them know he’s managing. That will have to hold back the worry from consuming him. Fjord will go mad if he tries to interoperate every beat of Jester’s pause.

“This is a waste of time.” Fjord complains, not for the first time, as they wait on Caleb and Veth’s return from the stables. They’re taking the afternoon in a small settlement north of the Plumgrove, stocking up on what meager supplies can be found. They’ll hit the marshland soon and the horses are ill-suited for travel, and with the way The Mighty Nein operate, they’re just as likely to get them all killed as they are to forget to pick up the horses if they leave them at an inn somewhere.

“Marion didn’t need to give us them.” Beau reminds him for the fourth time as she unsuccessfully tries to convince him to take more bread and cheese. “It’s rude if we don’t pay her back.”

Fjord doesn’t argue with her, even though he already offered up his own savings in order to avoid trying to resell livestock. Jester had allegedly picked up some gossip too, and was waiting upon their companions’ return to fill them all in.

He turns away from the group, tries to meditate in this time that he’s been cursed with. For all his effort, Fjord cannot connect with the Wildmother on any level beyond his worry for Caduceus and can think of nothing but her warning to him and the way it makes his gut ache.

At the first sight of copper hair and dark brown braids, Fjord is on his feet and practically dragging the rest of his companions out of town and towards where the Othemoor should lie.

Veth has the coin in her possession, ties the bag off with a special ribbon to mark it before she gives it to Jester to toss into the bag of holding. “We had to talk them down.”

“They tried to pay us more.” Caleb rushes to explain as they pass the last two farmhouses. “For the tack and all, suppose it is of better make than they’re used to.”

“That was good of you.” Yasha smiles. ”We’ll have to tell Caduceus, he’ll be proud.”

“Speaking of!” Jester wedges her way to the middle of their group, voice falling into a whisper to make sure no one can overhear her. “The girl who sold me the jerky told me about a group that came through not a day before, with an oddly marked cart.”

They don’t need to ask, but Beau does anyway. “Same symbol?”

Jester nods tightly. “The reason the girl says the cart was odd is because that group has passed through _many_ times. But never with that cart, and never with that speed.”

“They’re not real Myriad.” The certainty with which Caleb speaks is almost off-putting. “They’ve been subcontracted out. Something about the job is high-risk enough that the Myriad doesn’t want to use actual agents, make it harder to trace it back to them.”

“Well, then the cart seems like a foolish move.” Fjord says.

“I bet they marked it themselves.” Beau says grimly. “A foolish, if not an entirely amateur move.”

This appraisal makes Veth perk up. “If they’re that moronic, they’ll make other mistakes, one’s we’ll notice the closer we get.”

That’s all the encouragement they need to pick up their pace, almost double-timing it on the path that bends to Othe.

The speed at which they travel frightens the group they run into. The Othemoor is in sight and neither group is eager to step off the path, in case that would provoke the wildlife. They move single file, not making eye contact.

At the rear, a man stumbles as he passes between Beau and Jester. Jester reaches out to stabilize him, accidently pushing his sleeve back as she grasps his arm. Glaring in the high sun is a black brand she’d drawn in her sketchbook not a full day earlier. Jester’s brain feels like it’s short-circuiting, all she can do is cry out “Myriad!”

And that gets everyone’s attention. On a different day, given different circumstances, they might have even been happy to run into Myriad agents, especially if they were connected with Jester’s father. But what they’re doing and who they’re searching for has changed those circumstances.

“ _You_.” Beau would have anger demons crawling out of her mouth and down this man’s throat if at all possible. Lightning reflexes, she pulls back her arm and strikes him quickly twice, once in the gut and again in his skull.

This is all The Mighty Nein need to agree to end the existence of this entire group.

Three hits of Eldritch Blast are soaring off Fjord’s fingertips without a second thought, hitting his first target with enough force to lift them off the ground. He sends three more as he turns to the closest figure, a woman, and cuts into her with his blade. She lands a single blow before he knocks her on her side.

Descending on her, Fjord knocks a blast into her for good measure. Then the sword goes through her mouth that she opened to scream. He uses all of his weight to force the blade to drive through the left part of her face. Fjord pulls the blade out and whacks it into her face over and over and over again, crushing her skull into a pulp.

Hands are on him, trying to pull him off. A half elven man is in front of him driving a dagger into Fjord’s shoulder. He looks up and spits a mouthful of blood into his attacker’s face as a battle cry leaves his throat. Having given himself a moment as the other man stumbles back attempting to wipe his face, Fjord releases two Eldritch Blasts aimed at his feet and launches himself upwards so that he can tackle him and bring him down on Fjord’s level.

The man tries to push his weight off him and moves his mouth, but the blood is pounding so ferociously in Fjord’s ears that even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t be able to hear the half-elf’s begging. He drives Star Razor through the man’s thigh, pinning him to the ground. Fjord grabs at his neck, digging claws into his throat as he pulls the other man to a sitting position.

Blue eyes bulge out of their sockets as their faces come close. Fjord releases a guttural growl as he presses his free hand into the man’s chest. An Eldritch Blast fires straight through his leather armor.

A moment of silence after the cacophony of battle. Fjord can’t bear it; he fires more green energy out of his hands and calls his blade back to his hand. Like a man on a mission, Fjord begins to hack the body in front of him apart, starting at the waist and just shredding it as he works his way up towards the head.

Those eyes are frozen death, full of terror as they look at him. The thought crosses his mind, that Caduceus must have made a similar expression when he was stolen from him, and that fuels Fjord’s anger to the point where he can’t hold his sword any longer. It evaporates into the ether as he prepares to bring his fists down, to cave his enemy’s skull in his righteous anger at what they’ve put Caduceus through -

“Fjord!”

His blow is stopped by Yasha as she grabs his arm like something fierce. She’s still in a rage, chest rapidly rising and falling with the effort of stopping her own wake of destruction. Fjord still fights back, he’s not finished, he’s got a message to send.

“Let.” He heaves as he pulls against her “Go.”

Her hand only tightens, actually causing him damage now. “No. Jester needs the skull.”

That makes Fjord pause for a moment, stop fighting against the force that is Yasha. “Why…” He finally can pull his gaze away from the corpse he’d been focused on and can see what she means.

Of the seven members Fjord assumed were all Myriad, the half-elf he had been beating beyond death was the only one that had much of anything remaining. Two of them were husks of charred flesh and bolts, Caleb and Veth’s handiwork, any sort of features burned away, and they looked ready to crumble into ash. Another had been cleaved in half, skull to bits, and only Yasha’s strength could have been capable of a feat like that. That first man, Beau had beaten him to the point of shattering his jaw, rendering it useless. Belatedly, Fjord realizes the soft blue glow surrounding all of them are Jester’s spirit guardians, taking the shape of Caduceus’s beetles but in her trademark color, which are still eating away at any flesh that’s out and available to them until they pop out of existence.

The first one Fjord had gone after with his Eldritch Blasts had been blown to pieces by the force damage, and more resembled a smear of red on the grass than any humanoid. The second, he remembered how he had ended her life, and the spirit beetles had made quick work of what remained. This last one, Fjord had an effort to make his ending miserable, though he had likely expired from that last Eldritch Blast he had gotten off before the real torture would have started.

Jester is wiping her hands on her skirt as she makes her way over to them, dancing around the gore. She gives the corpse a once over, and then Yasha a nod. Her hand finds place on his back and she’s ever so gently guiding him away, over to where the rest of their friends had gathered closer to the start of the Othemoor.

“It’s not them.” Jester hums, confirming what Fjord already suspected since they were traveling the wrong way and without a cart. “But they have to know, have seen the ones we’re looking for, coming from that direction. We’ll get some helpful answers.”

It shouldn’t make him feel better, that amount of carnage wrought for the minimal information. Fjord feels guilty that the weight of his worry has been lifted, if only for the moments after battle while his heart still thumps in his chest from adrenaline.

They’re joined by Yasha a moment later, the only surviving head of their attackers in a bundle she’s holding loosely to her hip as she walks.

“Let’s, ah, put some distance between ourselves and this scene.” Caleb nods his head at the impressive carnage they’d left behind. “Then we can rest, and Jester can ask her questions.”

Fjord’s head shakes before he can think better of it. “We don’t need to rest, let’s ask them now and get back on his trail.”

“Fjord.” Veth’s tone is firm. “It’ll take her some time to prepare the spell. Besides,” She adds, looking him up and down once. “You look like shit.”

They’re heading into the marshland without another word, so Fjord has no choice but to fall in line. Fjord would have been a sight to see as they broke through the muck, if he had bothered to look. The muddy waters turned dark scarlet as he dipped in, washing his own blood and the insides of others off of him.

But Fjord was much too preoccupied with his own thoughts to even help the group look out for a patch of solid, dry land they could stop on to catch their breaths. His mind, as it had done for the past week, was repeating the Wildmother’s warning to him. Her exact cadence, Her worried tone, Her terror for Caduceus and what lie ahead for him. As his bloodlust was washed away, that familiar cold fear took Fjord once again, twisting deep in his gut.

 _He is still in danger_. _He is still in danger_. _He is still in danger_.


	2. Chapter 2

How they found the spot they’re taking a rest at now, Fjord can’t recall. He had followed the Nein, minus Caduceus, through the marsh with little thought other than overwhelming worry. Jester is at the center of the little island, laying out the items she’ll need to cast Speak With Dead.

The rest are scattered around, forming a loose protective circle around their remaining cleric. Beau’s up, pacing relentlessly to the point it’s putting Fjord on edge. Yasha stands, arms crossed and forever their watchful sentinel. There is a bundle of old bandages in his lap, Caleb’s doing. At Fjord’s left, Veth stands and does her best to clean off his face. She’s dipping the bandages in the dingy swamp water and scrubbing away at bits of gore that stuck to his stubble. There’s some gentle scolding happening, but Fjord is much too numb to hear any of it. He’s meant to be keeping an eye out for danger like the rest of them, but instead finds himself watch Jester prepare her ritual.

She calls them over as she’s lighting the last of her incense. The set up Jester manages is impressive, agarbatti circling the decapitated head with perfect symmetry. She nods as they join her, cracking her knuckles.

“Let’s get some answers.” Jester declares, snaps her fingers to finish the incantation. Bloodshot blue eyes snap open.

“Hello.” All mirth is gone from her voice as Jester leans into the target of her interrogation. “What can you tell us about the firbolg the Othe Myriad has been looking for?”

The skull attempts to laugh, but it sounds torn, wrong. “Kotho. Ran out on a contract for an interested party. Word is, they’re back.”

It’s nice to have their rumors confirmed, but an unhelpful answer. Then again, that’s what usually happens with Speak With Dead.

Jester tilts her head thoughtfully. “Did you see a cart on your way out, with your Myriad’s symbol?”

“Yes.” The head in her hands attempts to nod, but for obvious reasons the effect isn’t really achieved. “They have the wrong one.”

“How do you know that?”

A hiss falls from dead lips, sounding much more like a laugh than his first attempt. “Gaunt freak with pink hair doesn’t match Kotho’s description at all, they’re just hoping that the capture will grant them membership. It won’t work, but the boss won’t complain, firbolgs go for a pretty platinum if you know how to find the right buyer.”

Jester’s anger is obvious to read. “I guess your lot would, wouldn’t they?”

Caleb reaches out in an attempt to stop her flow of words, prevent the wasting of a question. But by the time he’s extended his hand, the half-elf’s mouth has already opened to reply. “Yes, we do.”

His baiting of her is not treated with kindness. Jester’s nails dig into the remaining flesh that lines the jaw and speaks her final question slow and deliberately. “You’re going to tell us how to best find these aspiring members, unless you would prefer I preserve you and force you to do this with me every ten days until we find our friend or I bore of you?”

The mouth twitches, eyes move up and down in an unnatural way, but betray both comprehension and fear. “Their horses fell ill, can’t travel in the marsh heat. They’ll rest for the day in a cave, a mile off the road and half day’s journey from where you killed us. Largest tree in the marsh has a crescent carved into it to mark where you leave the path.”

The spell leaves the half-elf with a slight glow of arcane energy, and then their all staring at the decapitated head. Yasha comes out of her trance first, takes the skull from Jester and wraps it up before storing it in the bag of holding.

“But he – “ Jester protests.

Yasha shakes her head. “Just in case. We need insurance.”

“There has to be a way we catch them today.” Fjord doesn’t want to hear objections or other strategies; they need to get to Caduceus. Nothing else matters.

The sun hasn’t quite reached its crest, so it isn’t yet noon. They could ask Caleb for the exact time, but then he’d likely subject them to hourly updates, out of habit if nothing else.

“The earliest we’ll reach them on foot is tomorrow.” Beau sounds worried, unhappy having to take the role of the pragmatist.

Jester tilts her head to the side. “If Caleb and I polymorph, we can travel much faster.”

Caleb is nodding. “We’ll have to keep an eye out for the tree, but I’ll also keep track of distance. It’ll take us a third of the time.”

“Can we take them, if we have to face them today?” Veth speaks for the first time with a concern she does not normally wear. She’s been cataloging their injuries, used spell slots and trying to serve as a voice of caution in place of Caduceus. Her care is kind but it still feels wrong, like a patch job on the open ocean when the only way to fix a torn hull is to dock in port and pull the ship out of the water.

“We don’t have a choice.” Fjord says grimly, hoping someone will challenge him. Let him be wrong, that they have more than one chance to bring him back to them, allow for a margin of error if they’ve been misled or come too tired for a fight.

What the rest do instead is nod in silence. After a moment Jester breaks it with a question.

“Eagles?”

Caleb nods, and within a moment both of them explode into a burst of feathers. Caleb is tawny, perhaps a little underfed, colored like a marsh hunter. Jester’s eagle form is of course blue, but she’s showing restraint by going for a darker hue. As she looks down to grab Fjord, he realizes her eyes are tinted pink instead of their usual violet. It makes him go soft for a moment, before his gut drops as Jester takes flight, Beau in her other claw.

He thinks one day that he’ll adjust to flying. For now, it still takes everything within him not to get ill over the next hour. Fjord is thankful that Caleb spots the tree instead of Jester, because that means they go down in a gentle descent instead of a dive bomb. Their targets have even been foolish enough to not bother hiding the cart’s tracks.

Most of them are still gathering their bearings but Fjord starts on the trail before the world stops wobbling beneath his feet. Caduceus is still in danger, won’t stop being so until they find him. This determination, unfortunately, does not make him immune to his body’s feelings on the matter, so he stumbles and would have fallen had Yasha not been ready to catch him.

“A moment more.” She promises him, voice sharp as steel. “Then we’ll run for the first half mile at least.”

She keeps her promise, as do the rest. Beau takes point, as irritatingly quick as she can move it wasn’t really up for debate. Caleb casts a spell on Veth so she can keep pace. They only slow when the path becomes muddled, and Beau’s sharp eyes keeping them on the trail. It’s Jester who spots the cave, and they huddle behind several fallen trees while they whisper a plan.

It’s no small thing that she spotted it. There’s no obvious entrance, the slab of stone can barely be seen underneath the mess of winding ivy and tree roots. It looks like the earth is doing its best to reclaim the cave beneath the surface. The entrance would be too short for Caduceus to enter upright, he would have ducked just the slightest to avoid hitting his head. The water isn’t quite ankle deep in some places, though they still remain largely on raised marshland. Had they not known they were looking for it, Fjord realizes, there’s no way they would have noticed it, even if they had been pointed in the general direction.

Caleb is still advocating for their caution. He’s sending Frumpkin in make sure they the right cave, and won’t listen to Beau’s protests of _What other cave could it be, Caleb he’s in there and we need to break him out now_. But he is right. If it’s the wrong cave, they’ve at best lost a day. At worst, Gods only knows what Caduceus’s fate will be.

Truth doesn’t make him feel any better. “When has that cat ever been any use.” Fjord mutters the second their wizard’s focus leaves him.

A small hand smacks him, not hard enough to cause pain but enough to get his attention. Veth is giving him a disapproving look. It doesn’t quite make Fjord feel like he’s forgotten to tuck his corners while making his bunk bed, but it’s damn near close. They sit in silence, waiting for Caleb’s reaction.

Their quiet is deafening, especially as the sun passes its peak and beats down on them. If it were the night, Fjord laments, at least the songs of the wildlife would be able to accompany the panic that’s beginning to overtake him again without the distraction of movement to keep it at bay. He’d normally send a prayer at a time like now, but all Fjord can think of is how much better Caduceus would be at this. He’s such a better follower to Her, more helpful in a fight, sure of himself, hells he’s the one fixed the part of him that Fjord had so irrevocably fucked up that the Wildmother herself could not heal and… He’s trying to ponder how their cleric has made the act of rescue look so effortless when Beau is shaken with a force it nearly knocks her over.

Caleb’s head jolts forward, milky eyes fade back to their piercing blue. “It’s them.”

It’s both surprising and yet not at all that Yasha is the first to move. She wears a look of grim determination that is only softened when Jester and Fjord immediately rise to her side. Caleb dusts off his hands and opens his pouch containing his spell components. Veth’s crossbow is loaded and she’s looking more serious than she ever has before a fight. With a crack of Beau’s knuckles and a nod, they make their move.

Their barbarian leads their march in. There’s no need for stealth, not when they know what they’re coming for.

They would have every right to make this scene as bloody and brutal as their last. But the chance of them dragging it out for their own pleasure drops to zero when the cart can be spotted once the threshold is crossed, covered in a dark tarp but not well enough that the symbol painted on the side that brought them here can still be seen. Granted, Beau doesn’t have her goggles on, so it takes her a moment longer to realize their proximity to Caduceus. So the woman half-paying attention to her watch that Beau grabs at the mouth of the cave takes a couple extra punches before her neck is snapped. It’s nothing she didn’t deserve.

There’s twelve of them here, not quite double from earlier but they’ve certainly faced worse odds. Fjord would laugh, if he had time to waste. Instead he’s got a black tendril spawning from his hand, wrapping around the nearest target it can find. The man is lifted from the ground, crushed by spectral energy. As his life is sucked from him, Fjord can feel the equilibrium shift in his own favor, sapping the lifeforce out from his foe at giving that energy to himself. As the tendril unwinds to drop the body, it has left fungus and peat moss in its place. As Fjord is turning to find his next target, a cry from behind him grabs his attention instead.

“We’ve got casters!” Veth calls out from wherever she’s concealed herself, firing a bolt blindly before starting to take cover again. Fjord looks over just in time to see her get struck with two spectral arrows, the force of which knocks her on her side. Their senders then fade into the background, despite the cave being well-illuminated with soft torchlight. Invisibility.

The tendril is gone and sword in his hand before he can think to even hesitate with indecision. Star Razor thrums with power and Fjord channels his cast of Faerie Fire. The cave lights up in green, and the figures that had hidden themselves are now outlined in the glowing magic. Yasha throws herself at them with unrestrained ferocity, a thing of beauty and complete terror sending her message loud and clear.

The serrated lollipop at her side compensates for Jester, as the cleric is bent over Veth. The unspoken fear she’d carried of losing one of their own while Caduceus was gone is now on display as she blasts healing energy from her palms with a force that blows her a half pace back.

One of the halflings soaked in Faerie Fire pulls a small ball of something in between his pointer and middle fingers and aims for the cart. The tell-tale bright streak of a Fireball is just escaping his fingers when it dies, interrupted by a wave of Caleb’s hand.

The halfling begins to throw out of curse, but it turns into a yell when Fjord reaches him and removes the hand holding the sulfur and bat guano with a slash of his sword. This changes his focus, and acid forms from his fingertips and sizzles on the skin of Fjord’s neck. This does little to deter Fjord’s opinion on what to do with his foe of course, and he’s taken the man down within the next few moments.

Beau is creating her own wake of destruction, enlarged by a spell from Caleb as she works her way around the other side of the cave solo. Veth, when she’s upright again, catches two attempting to flea with her Voltaic Bolt and kills them both. With Fjord at Yasha’s side, Jester sends her lollipop away to lend Beau a hand, not that she’s in terrible need of one, and focuses on smaller bursts of healing to keep the rest of them on their feet as they cut through their targets.

Side by side, Fjord and Yasha are a fearsome thing. With her rage and his versatility, it’s difficult for melee or spellwork to bring them down. She’ll break bones with a blow from her great sword, and he can finish them off with blasts of green force. It’s both their luck that no one thinks to try any psychic magic.

When Fjord can pull his head out of combat again for a moment, all that’s left is a lizard-looking humanoid that’s been stunned by a now regular-sized Beau and Caleb is forming a shimmering green arrow out of a snake’s stomach in their direction. They’ve got it. He catalogues the rest of his friends, Veth’s already begun the process of looting and he finds Jester when she hits him with a blast of healing, before turning to the woman at his side.

Yasha’s without a doubt the worst for wear, large gash running down the side of her face and spitting out her own blood. Fjord gently touches the wound and it knits itself up, preventing a scar from forming. She gives him a nod, eyes delivering her message of gratitude.

The moment all is quiet and the fight is ended, they share a look and split. Veth and Caleb go to the bodies, digging through pockets and supplies looking for a paper trail so they can nip this hunt for Kotho in the bud. Beau stations herself at the mouth of the cave, not quite a meter away from the cart, ready to beat any stragglers that make their way back bloody. Fjord, Yasha and Jester make a beeline for the cart.

Jester beats them both, and Yasha assists her in tearing off the heavy blanket. Without asking or much thought for the others, Fjord vaults himself in into the back of the cart so he can reach Caduceus first.

He’s bound and beaten, body folded in on itself in some impossible way. Caduceus is the largest of them, but never in a way that imposes. To see him bent in, forced to be brought down in a way that his captors could manage him, makes Fjord more ill than flight ever has. He’s falling on his knees into the cart, would blindly slash at the ropes to free Caduceus if he could trust his hand to be steady.

Instead, he takes care, freeing his ankles first, working his way up through the wrists to the one that his captors had felt the need to warp around his neck and anchor him to the bottom of the cart with. Melora, what kind of fight did he put up to earn this treatment? Then Fjord’s at the gag around his mouth, something he rips away with his claws, Star Razor dropped to the bottom of the cart and forgotten in his newfound rush, and then the blindfold.

Coming to this point makes Fjord hesitate for a moment, and then another when it occurs to him that Caduceus has been unresponsive the entire time. A terror seizes Fjord’s heart, not unlike the one that overtook him on the cliffs of Nicodranas over a week ago.

But no, Caduceus is warm underneath him, body moving slightly with shallow breath. He’s alive, just unmoving. That’s when he realizes, Gods smite him for his stupidity, that Fjord hasn’t even spoken a word, Caduceus would have no idea who’s sawing at the rope.

“Hey, Caduceus, it’s me.”

Caduceus stays still for another beat, ears twitching in the direction of Fjord’s voice. Then he’s surging at him, still lacking the strength to fully propel himself upwards. Fjord catches him and pulls him close with one arm while the other fumbles to untie the blindfold so he can look Caduceus in the eyes, replace the image of them being filled with fear that’s been haunting him whenever he tries to sleep.

They’re pink carnation blossoms, as warm and beautiful as he remembers now that Fjord can hold Caduceus and confirm that he’s out of danger. They press their foreheads together for several labored breaths. Caduceus has sunk all his weight into him and it’s a burden Fjord is thrilled to bear.

Fjord can’t stop pressing his hands to Caduceus’s face to confirm that he’s still in front of him, still real and solid. His mouth is moving, searching for the words, but unable to find any that do justice to the state he’s in and what it feels like to have Caduceus in his arms.

Caduceus, damn him, is just smiling, serene as ever even as he’s crying. “Shush, Fjord. Just… let it be.”

“Caduceus, I –

The faintest touch at his cheek is all it takes to render Fjord speechless again. Caduceus is gentle, moving with a practiced precision Fjord would never have expected from him. “Let it be, Fjord. Let me have this one.”

“This one what?” That crypticness gets Fjord’s accursed mouth moving, because how could it not?

Caduceus’s hand drifts to Fjord’s hairline, thoughtfully rubbing the strands that had fallen loose between his fingertips. “Do I need to spell it out for you again? You’re in front of me, not dying, not trying to put me back together, not joining me in capture, you’re just here. It’s a nice dream for once, let me have it.”

 _He’s dreamt of me?_ No, this is not the time for that, not when Caduceus is thinking like this. “No, Deuces, not a dream.” Fjord doesn’t know where he finds the strength to stand, but he needs Caduceus to get up, to see the rest of the Nein to know they’ve come for real, so he finds it and takes Caduceus with him.

His soft pink eyes take all of them in while he tries to recover from his awe. “This is some illusion, I’m imagining it.” Caduceus declares.

Even from her spot away from them, this does not impress Beau. “Oh, please.” She snorts, crossing her arms. “Like we would ever let anyone get away with this bullshit.”

“No,” Caduceus is shaking his head, disbelief still in his smile. “Nothing this good ever happens.”

That catches Caleb’s attention, gets him to look over from where he and Veth are stacking corpses. “It does to people like you.”

As he shakily rises, leans on Fjord for support, Yasha is at his other side to help keep him steady as Caduceus lowers himself out of the cart and on to solid ground. “It’s happened once before.” She reminds him, all the rage in her body gone and replaced with tenderness in its stead.

“But _how_ did it happen?” The dismay is apparent in Jester’s voice, a sentiment mirrored by Fjord’s own heart.

Caduceus dryly laughs, throat scratchy. “Would you believe,” he muses slowly “It was the promise of a book of pastries?”

They don’t dare to make Caduceus walk more than a quarter mile. He’s only trusted to make it that far because Fjord never leaves his side as support. They’re roughly back on the right trail to find the main road, but the tending to their reclaimed cleric is more important than getting home right now. Anyways, Caleb’s planning on preparing Teleportation Circle tomorrow to bring them Rosohna so they can rest undisturbed until some sort of duty calls them.

They’ve formed a circle around Caduceus this time as he sits in rest, leaning his back on Yasha as she combs out his hair and begins to braid it. Caleb is unspooling silver wire to trace an Alarm spell to compensate for the fact that he’s too tapped to cast the dome tonight. Fjord is giving himself a moment to catch his breath on a half-rotten log and keeps an eye on Veth as she wades into the water to wash out the clothes Caduceus was wearing when they found him. He hadn’t let them take his undershirt off, but the change in pants and donning of one of the fancier Travelercon cloaks, heavy warm material with light green embroidery that is so large it accomplishes the feat of making the firbolg look swaddled, had done worlds of improving his appearance and mood. Beau’s on watch more than the rest of them, still unwilling to exhale after the last week they’d been through. Jester is at Caduceus’s side, babbling away.

“And I know you let me Scry.” She says, at a volume all of them can hear without straining. “The Traveler told me so.”

Caduceus’s ears twitch playfully, matching the small grin he pushes down. “I could feel you looking in. I wanted you to see Jester, you’re smart you would have guided the rest.”

She’s pushed sweet bread into his hands, something that she would have gotten back in Nicodranas and normally kept for herself. “But when I tried to send you a Sending it couldn’t get through!”

He nibbles thoughtfully at her offering, knows what it means to have received it. “There were originally three others. Such a large group, all for little old me, was quite flattering.” Caduceus laughs, but none of the others can manage one in response especially with the way his lungs exhale like he’s afraid they’ll shatter. “They were Spriggan, one of them was the group’s cleric. She had the Antimagic Field, was running it on me whenever she could. Given who they mistook me for, I doubt they thought I had magic, they just didn’t want me to be found. They didn’t gag me and tie me like that until the second night, after I got some good use out of Blight. They were so desperate, all of them. A hunger for change is something I can sympathize with, but their methods on the other hand…” He trails off, incomplete thought clearly finishing in his head but it’s not one he wants to share with them.

“Such desperation always breeds tragedy.” Yasha murmurs as she grows the braid down the shaved line across Caduceus’s head. “You seemed to have much faith that we would find you.”

“Well, I would have done the same for any of you.” He tries to turn his head to look at the rest, but Yasha tugs it in place as she’s still weaving the braid. “All of you, if needed.”

Yasha’s fingers still for a moment, and she slowly lowers herself over Caduceus’s shoulders to wrap him in a careful hug. She’s protective but also gentle, and her action is received with nothing but love in return.

Who to better shatter a tender moment with unrelenting energy but Jester. “Oh shit, they had horses! Where’d they go, they can’t just be wandering around here there’s giant alligators that live in these parts remember Kiri –“

“They’re ill, frightful things, would have taken off at the first sound of trouble. Make it out of the Othemoor alive or become someone’s dinner, they’ll still return to nature.” Caduceus looks blissfully calm before the veneer cracks and a mischievous smile works its way onto his face. “Besides, a horse that travels with us has a much worse chance of survival than any in the wilds.”

A laugh bubbles out of Beau’s chest from where she’s doing post-combat stretches first, before the rest of them contribute some chuckles. She pats a firm hand on Caduceus’s shoulder. “Missed you, Deucy.” Her voice is low and fond. It’s not often when Beauregard chooses to be vulnerable so whoever receives her tenderness always holds on tight, and Caduceus is no exception.

Veth tries just once to get Caduceus to use his healing on himself, but he refuses. Insists he’s fine and the worse is just cosmetic, despite his nervousness to take a deep breath that betrays bruised and broken ribs, the ruddy rope burn that hints of how long he was bound and his unwillingness to take off his shirt that make them all worry what’s underneath. Even Fjord notices the flash of heartbreak that overtakes her before her cheerful smile reclaims her face again.

Fjord does his best to give them all their time and space. He instead helps set up their things for the slowly-approaching evening, laying out bed spaces, gathering kindling, even going through their wreck of rations and deciding a soup is the safest way to go.

The rest of the Nein try to be polite when they finally all settle down to break bread. Only Caduceus is appropriately mortified, and stops them all in the middle of their meager dinner to lay out his herbs and spices and slowly explain them one by one, as if to children. His absence is no excuse for poor eating.

Beau takes responsibility of the kettle for the evening. Something that would normally never be tolerated occurs without a peep of protest, and that concern that Fjord had been battling since they left the cave with seven instead of the six that entered breathes again in his treacherous heart.

The brighter of the two moons climbs higher into the sky, claiming her dominion, as they scatter themselves around the small open fire. They regale Caduceus with stories of the past few days from the owlbear fight to Jester’s funnier abuses of Sending to odd townsfolk that live north of Plumgrove he ought to meet to not killing a single horse that Marion had purchased. Caduceus finds the last point the most difficult to believe. They know better than to prod him about his time apart from them right now.

Frumpkin poofs into existence and pushes himself into the lap of the firbolg, butting his head into his chest. Caduceus is more than happy to oblige the cat. “Glad to see you made it out this time.”

Caleb stills from his side of the campfire. “That does not mean that,” his voice is heavy and rushed, has a weight Fjord initially can’t place. “I did not fight just as hard.”

“No.” Caduceus rubs the sides of Frumpkin’s face. “That wasn’t meant as a dig. It’s just nice to have him to hold, afterwards.”

“Caduceus I –“

Jester barks out a laugh. “Caleb, he knows. Besides, a spider would have been a terrible source of comfort.” At that slight, Frumpkin mews in protest and is bouncing over to Jester, demanding an apology. His purring resembles a thunderstorm once she begins to scratch his spine with her nails.

That’s what it takes for Fjord to realize what they’re talking about. Back in the Sour Nest, Beau had told him that Frumpkin got smushed when they stormed it. He hadn’t even thought to make the comparison, but now Fjord couldn’t help but speculate on it now. Is this what it had felt like, to be on the other side of this kind of nightmare?

Mollymauk’s sharp smile comes back to him too, Molly had died trying to free them mid-transport. Not for the first time and what will certainly not be the last, a pang of grief strums in his heart for their colorful tiefling.

And then a realization. He would have died tonight, if that’s what was needed to get Caduceus out, would have been more than willing even if the tradeoff hadn’t been a guarantee. Now that they’re stronger and have two clerics, especially two as stubborn as Caduceus and Jester, the permanence of death for their party is more up in the air, but Fjord wouldn’t have held it against them if they couldn’t bring him back. Would he have been so willing to do that, all those months ago?

Fjord thinks of the man he was back then. False accent, filed down tusks, ashamed of his name and what he had come from. He hadn’t thought much of his time with the Iron Shepherds outside of Shady Creek, it was something he was more comfortable burying within him, but now it pushes and demands escape.

He stands up from his spot with a nod, receives some in return, and wanders away a bit. Not far enough to cause worry, but enough to be alone for the first time since… Well, since.

In the hot night in the marsh, Fjord finds enough quiet that all of his screaming thoughts can be heard. He thinks of Uk’otoa for the first time since the ocean, curses his naiveté and recklessness for the hundredth time. When he was punished and gagging on seawater and useless, Caduceus and the Mother were the ones to break him free and shape Fjord into something he liked. That uselessness returning when Vokodo had tried to take Caduceus from them. Rumblecusp had _not_ been kind to Caduceus, Fjord had no desire to return any time soon even if the resort did thrive. Godsdamnit, Fjord should have expected trouble when they returned to Nicodranas. If he had just kept an eye on Caduceus, gone shopping with him instead of allowing himself to be pulled back to the coastline, none of this would have needed to happen.

And, that age old shame that he was unsure he’d ever grow out of rose in the back of his throat. It wasn’t the first time Fjord hadn’t been strong enough or smart enough to protect the people he cared about.

That’s how Caduceus first saw him. Not manacled to the floor, blinded and gagged. But still full of shame and weak. Trying to throw himself into something that would provide control, dragging them out into Darktow. Caduceus will say that he judged him unfairly, but Fjord will forever argue that it was needed. He saw him when he was weak and unsure of what this power within him was. And Caduceus was his lifeline, his guiding light when Fjord feared he might break open on the rocks. He loves him, he – wait, he what?

Oh. The Mother’s Lighthouse. _Oh_.

He didn’t realize when he started crying but it’s undeniable now. Fjord was never one to burst into loud displays of emotion, a habit like that makes life difficult in an orphanage. It’s gotten better with his time in the Nein but it’s one of those things that’ll take him many more years to unlearn. The overwhelming emotion does come with a sense of catharsis, so he allows himself to weep. He focuses on his breathing, steadies himself and the silent tears eventually stop. Fjord knows he needs to ground himself in Her, and he thinks he might not be the only one wanting that.

He’s allowed a moment, though. Fjord dries his face, prays that his eyes won’t puff up and betray him as he makes his way back to the fire. Caduceus is sitting a bit away from the rest, appears to be in conversation with a tree that stands over his bedroll. It’s feels nice when Caduceus turns his energy toward him when he somehow hears Fjord’s near-silent approach, and he realizes it has always felt this nice.

“I’m going to meditate.” Fjord says, nodding out away from where the rest are settling in for the evening. “Would you like to join me? No pressure.” His addendum at the end is rushed, clearly an afterthought.

This doesn’t seem to bother Caduceus. Fjord is just rewarded with one of his warm smiles and a steadfast nod as the firbolg rises to join him. 

They don’t go terribly far, no more than forty paces away from the rest. Out of earshot for normal conversation, but close enough to still catch glimpse of the campfire. Fjord can see best out of the pair, so he picks them a little patch of solid earth encircled by tough grass and a moss-heavy stump. No spell is needed to be cast by either, so they’ve come empty handed which means Fjord has open palms to provide stability as Caduceus slowly sinks to the ground. He winces before settling in.

“Caduceus.” They’re alone, there’s no need of excuse for Fjord to hide his worry between the pair of them.

“Fjord.” He takes a shaky pause, then finally, _finally_ , is honest. “I… I was having difficulty keeping track of the days. I forgot to ask her for spells…”

Shame is a look that doesn’t belong on Caduceus ever, but especially not now. His cheeks are ruddy, and he threatens to collapse in on himself. Fjord finds himself weak in the knees, practically falls to Caduceus’s side at the sight of him.

“Hey.” Fjord tries his best to be comforting, hopes it comes off that way. Caduceus looks up at him, has never taken an action that made him appear more vulnerable to Fjord. “May I?”

Caduceus’s abused wrists are in front of him now, and it takes everything in Fjord not to cry again. He instead takes them with as much care as he can, and begins to slowly trace the red lines, channels his Lay on Hands into Caduceus’s skin. Fjord moves slowly from his wrists to the mark around Caduceus’s neck that peaks out from under the cloak, but Caduceus doesn’t flinch or move away. He instead releases the tie, letting the cloak fall loose to the ground. Everything left from Lay on Hands to make the rope burn and bruising disappear here. But Fjord knows that what’s visible is by no means the worst Caduceus has to have on him, not with how he’s been carrying himself these past few hours.

“If there’s something you’re afraid to show the others,” Fjord offers slowly, terrified he’ll scare Caduceus off somehow, “I have something left in me to fix it. Or, at least try to.”

He feels Caduceus’s pulse rabbit under the soft pressure of his hand, but his cleric gives a nod. He tugs at his long sleeve with his left hand, pulling his arm into his shift and lifting the right side to be exposed. The light dusting of fur does little to hide the dark bruises all over Caduceus’s pale torso. It looks like he’d been kicked, bludgeoned and beaten within an inch of his life. All intentionally missing the face, so he could be passed off to an unsuspecting buyer. The worst of it dances just under his pectoral as the bruise is bleeding shades of yellows and green in the purple, upper ribcage must be cracked and that’s no easy feat.

At this sight, he allows himself a few tears that Caduceus kindly chooses not to comment on. Fjord ghosts both his palms to this spot as he casts Cure Wounds. He doesn’t have enough to fix Caduceus; it will take days of healing to make all these aches properly go away. But he has to give him everything he has in this moment.

Magic spent, Fjord rocks away and back onto his heels. Caduceus carefully pulls his top shirt back on, breathing with a little more ease. “Thank you.” He whispers.

The both settle themselves in, actually preparing for proper meditation this time. They do nothing but breathe deeply, listening and feeling for several minutes. Behind closed eyes, Fjord dares to break the silence with his favorite question.

“Where is She right now?” This dance of theirs is well practiced by now, Fjord asks for guidance and Caduceus gives it with unbridled enthusiasm.

“She’s in the songs of bullfrogs, the smell of swamp water, the air that hangs just a little to muggy. The wet ground made solid beneath our bodies, a constant in a place that’s forever changing. One day this will change too, become something anew in Her image. Like how different frogs will form the choir, the water changes the path it flows, a felled tree will find new life in fungus. But it will still be wild. It will still be free, be good.”

Fjord sneaks his eyes open to catch Caduceus’s fait smile, and the last of his worry leaches out of him and into the earth. She takes it from him, takes Her warning and gives him space in his chest to feel warm.

“It’s nice, to be like this again.” Caduceus takes a breath, one that you’d have to know him well to recognize it as shaky. Fjord does. “I haven’t been allowed to do this in a while.”

The air is filled a gentle buzz, fireflies that light up the marsh almost as brightly as spiritual beetles. It’s calm in the way that invites honestly. “She warned me; you know. About the danger. And She’s sorry, for all of it.”

Those eyes look back at his and they’re still light and full of mischief, and Fjord can already hear the _Oh, well the Divine Gate_ excuse rolling off Caduceus’s tongue, so he knows now he has to make himself plain.

“I’m sorry too.”

Caduceus’s retort dies before it even leaves his mind. He shifts to a bittersweet sorrow instead as he slightly shakes his head. “No, don’t carry that. Not for someone as insignificant as me.”

And if that doesn’t get a reaction out of Fjord “What? Whatever you’re thinking, abandon it Caduceus. You’re the farthest thing from insignificant, I…” He can’t say it aloud, he just discovered it tonight, but Fjord can still get the sentiment across. “I care for you, deeply.”

“As do I, Fjord, deeper than I think you’ll ever know.” Caduceus looks sad, but not the sadness that he’s taken on from their time apart, something heavier and older. It’s heartbreak, like this has happened so many times before and Caduceus is trying to find strength despite his exhaustion for it to happen again. _He doesn’t know what I mean._

There isn’t a word he can say right now to make himself understood, he has to take action. Fjord remembers what it’s like to be reckless and that it’s not always a bad thing, but he still gives Caduceus the time to pull away in case he’s horribly misread the situation.

The relief when he doesn’t, and their lips do meet, helps Fjord finally understand why some people love flying.

Their kiss starts out as soft, but that does nothing to curb it from growing in passion as they both thrill in one another’s touch and receptiveness. In his rush, Fjord forgets to wrap his lips around his tusks to protect Caduceus from them and winces when he feels the pressure of the other’s mouth when he goes to deepen their kiss. But Caduceus _moans_ into his mouth, and suddenly Fjord finds himself thankful for his misguided hurry.

When he can finally go without air for no longer, Caduceus pulls away. He’s tugged his hair loose, Fjord realizes, and the feeling of the firbolg’s long fingers running through his hair is the closest he thinks he’s ever been to nirvana. The song of fireflies and frogs slowly comes back to them as they enjoy nothing more than the other’s company for several beats longer.

“So.” His tone is clear that Fjord is going to ask about something else but isn’t ignoring their last few moments.

“So.” Caduceus is fine with that, stops his petting and takes Fjord’s hand within his own to let him know he understands.

It’s not a question really, but Fjord still says it like he can’t believe it’s true. “You dreamed of me.”

Caduceus tilts his head just the slightest. “You know, I think I have been for a long time. Before I met you, even before the rest ever came to me. I didn’t know it was you at the time, of course, but it always was you.”

And Fjord doesn’t know what that entirely means, but it still tugs at his heart, compels him to untangle their fingers and return his palm to Caduceus’s jawline.

Caduceus turns his head into the pressure, and steals a kiss on Fjord’s wrist, one that turns sharp when his teeth pass his lips and starts to attempt to suck a love bite, making Fjord’s breath catch.

That noise breaks Caduceus’s concentration. He looks to Fjord, eyes hazy with something bordering feral but it doesn’t startle Fjord. He knows the man behind those eyes, he’s been brought to the light and back to life by him, how could he not love him, trust him with every fiber of his being. So Fjord is ready to catch him when Caduceus springs on him, strong enough to hold him above him while he pushes Fjord back into the dirt. Solid enough to ground the two of them and push back up into the kiss Caduceus gives with such enthusiasm it makes them both smile.

It doesn’t last for as long as either would like it to. Caduceus, despite everyone’s best efforts, is still beaten down, Fjord is exhausted from the two fights they faced to bring him back to them, and they can only run on adrenaline for so long. Still, they lay in the marsh for a little longer after they’re too tired to continue kissing, and just enjoy Her presence. The way the fireflies are glowing almost like Faerie Fire fells like the Wildmother’s sense of approval, and it fills them both with a fuzzy warmth.

It’s Caduceus that pulls them up, mumbles that the others are going to come looking if they take much longer. Fjord gathers the discarded cloak, wraps it around Caduceus’s shoulders and does little more than laugh when Caduceus pulls him under it as well, tight to his side so he can keep them close and hold Fjord’s hand on their short walk back.

He’ll thank Her better later, he owes the Wildmother that at least if not much, much more. But Fjord can’t help himself in the moment, sends Her a thought of gratitude.

Out in the wetlands, something shifts in the waters and for a moment, overrides the melodies of the evening bugs and other wildlife.

A response. From Her.

Thanks in return.

Fjord holds Caduceus’s hand just a little tighter, lets its weight flow through his veins until they bring it back to his chest. When it settles, it feels right there, like it belongs. _This is what love feels like_ , he realizes with both a start and yet not any surprise at all, _and I’m more than happy to carry it for him._

**Author's Note:**

> it was such a joy to give them their boy back. everyone who read this while it was still half-done kept me fed, and everyone who's seeing this now warms my heart. 
> 
> kudos and comments are still always adored, find me at [somecommonbitch](https://somecommonbitch.tumblr.com) on tumblr if you want to get emotional about m9 found family and teahaw


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